


A Four Letter Word

by smilesbag



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, They love each other, idk i dont have a real timeline, might be ooc i just want them to be okay, neil gets nightmares, nora says andrew will never be happy but i say F That, such light angst don't be mad at me, this is the softest shit ive ever written, this takes place a couple years after canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:11:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilesbag/pseuds/smilesbag
Summary: "This was what it was to love Neil Josten. Offering comfort when he had none to give, bracing himself against the world to remain steady for him, silent concessions that would never be granted to anybody else. Andrew cared for him ferociously, limitlessly, without effort."--Or, Neil has a nightmare, and Andrew has a moment of clarity.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 26
Kudos: 215





	A Four Letter Word

**Author's Note:**

> "When wounds are healed by love, the scars are beautiful."  
> (David Bowles)

Andrew’s eyes blinked open.

One moment, that’s all he allowed himself. One moment to acknowledge the tiredness in his bones, the warmth of his body beneath his sheets, the way that all of him ached to go back to sleep.

One moment, and then he let it go. He was not somebody who could afford the pleasures of restful sleep, who could languish in bed until mid-morning and wake slowly whenever he desired. No, Andrew had trained himself to notice the slightest shift in the environment around him, his ears had been honed into alarm systems that could detect the softest treading footfalls or the dip of a mattress under the weight of a body. 

But Andrew didn’t let himself think about the things that had turned him into this coiled spring of a person, into a waiting bear trap. He didn’t have the time for self-pity either, and he dismissed it as quickly as he had his wish for more sleep.

He was awake, though, and he wasn’t immediately sure why. He lay motionless, his fingers twitching at his sides beneath the sheets, silently counting each of the knives he had hidden within arms reach.

_Beneath the mattress. Behind the headboard. Inside the nightstand. Under his pillow._

He took stock of the room around him without moving. 

_How long had he been awake?_

Mere seconds, surely, but time seemed to stretch on without stopping, and Andrew let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. His lungs slowly filled with air, and as his eyes adjusted to the dark he let them drift across his field of vision. The curtains were still drawn, but he couldn’t see any light behind them, which meant that it was still dark outside. The door was shut, and he saw no light underneath that either, which meant Neil hadn’t gotten up-

_Neil._

Andrew remembered the boy who was tucked into bed next to him, far enough that their bare arms did not brush as they slept, but close enough that the mattress dipped between them, so familiar at this point that even after they woke it remembered their shape. Two men who slept still like soldiers, but if they were to reach out their pinkies they would have found the other waiting. His mind stilled at the thought of Neil’s closeness.

Then Andrew heard it. The slight hitch in Neil’s breathing, a cry that should have formed words but merely manipulated the silence that surrounded them, and any truths that might have been spilled under the cloak of sleep stayed lodged in his throat. Secrets upon secrets upon secrets. 

Neil had learned hard lessons, too. He had been sharpened, too.

Andrew listened closely to his partner for a few minutes as his chest rose and fell, waiting for the next irregular heartbeat. He seemed steadier now, though and Andrew almost wondered if he had imagined the skip in the first place. 

Almost.

“How long have you been awake,” came Neil’s voice from beside him. He sounded small, tired. Andrew’s blood chilled in his body, a scowl pulling downward at the corners of his mouth. Of course Neil knew he was listening. They were made of the same dangerous stuff.

“Not long.” Andrew sat up, slowly shaking the adrenaline from his body. “I’m turning on the lights,” he mumbled. His arm reached over to turn the switch on the lamp beside his bed, and he squinted as the yellowish light flooded his eyes. He let his eyelids fall closed as he slowly exhaled through his nose, sighing into an unforgivingly early morning. He felt the bed creak as Neil sat up, too. Andrew opened his eyes and turned to face him. He locked his eyes on Neil and examined him in the dim lamplight. 

“Your hands are shaking.” He stated. It was the truth. Neil looked down at his quivering fingers and folded them neatly into a ball on his lap, trying to hide them even though Andrew had already pointed it out. 

“I guess so,” he smiled weakly. Andrew stared back at him, unamused. Another thing he didn’t have time for was half-truths and liars, which was hypocritical of him, as Neil often pointed out, but he didn’t care. Neil’s face fell into a conflicted look, but he kept his eyes locked on Andrew’s despite the intensity in his gaze. “I just- it’s the same dream as always. I thought I’d be able to handle it by now.” His eyes finally dropped, and he stretched his fingers out flat in front of him, turning them over as if to inspect them for damage. They seemed to be shaking more, now, and Andrew noticed the red half-moon shapes on his palms which meant that he had been breaking the skin with his nails in an effort to calm himself down. Andrew wondered if Neil had even noticed he was doing it.

“You’re an idiot.” Andrew concluded without any real malice, which earned a knowing shrug from Neil. He didn’t need to ask about the dream. He didn’t know every detail, but they had gone through this enough that he was familiar with the fear that the dreams inspired. Neil was dreaming of his father, or his mom, or of one of the many ways he had acquired the scars that curled themselves around his torso or flowered on his face. Andrew reached up to his face now, and Neil’s eyes slid closed as Andrew traced the raised, white explosion of skin on his left cheekbone. He let out a low sound as he recalled the first time he had seen the number four on Neil’s face, and later, a small hotel room where he discovered the painful scar that came from its removal. 

Andrew hated all of it.

He let out another sigh, (that seemed to be all he was capable of doing this morning) and shifted so he sat directly in front of Neil. Their light sheets were still tangled around both of their legs, and Andrew pushed the fabric down to the end of the bed, allowing the cool air in the room to ground them both. Neil’s eyes fluttered open, piercing, and blue as they had always been. It was funny, really, that Neil had ever thought he could hide eyes like those, as if their ferocity wouldn’t leak around the edges of brown contact lenses. 

But then, not many people looked as closely as Andrew. 

Neil put his hands out in front of him, palms turned to the sky. They were barely a foot from his body, their position nearly indiscernible from the fidgeting he had been doing just moments before, but Andrew stared into his eyes and saw only the question that they had been asking each other for months. 

_Yes or no?_

Andrew’s heart clenched in his chest, because even though he was spiraling, even though it was Andrew’s turn to offer Neil the comfort that he needed, he was still giving him the chance to choose. 

He had never known anything so pleasant.

Andrew slipped his hands into Neil’s without flinching, drawing slow circles on the back of his hand, and the younger boy hummed in satisfaction.

This was what it was to love Neil Josten. Offering comfort when he had none to give, bracing himself against the world to remain steady for him, silent concessions that would never be granted to anybody else. Andrew cared for him ferociously, limitlessly, without effort. Even on their toughest days, he was so easy to come home to. The truth of his own tenderness felt like a bird in Andrew's chest. Caged, restless, and so, so beautiful.

Neil leaned forward, closing the gap between the two boys. Andrew closed it faster, pressing his lips on the corners of Neil's mouth and along his jaw as soft reminders of his loyalty. Neil turned his face to the ceiling, and Andrew continued to grip his hands, placing light kisses down his neck and to his collarbone that he knew would make the hair on Neil’s arms stand up. Neil let out a shaky breath into the air and leaned his head forward so he was tucked comfortably in Andrew’s shoulder, and the shorter boy unceremoniously scooted forward to hold him closer. He transferred both of Neil’s hands into one of his own, and moved his free hand to Neil's back, his fingers dancing lightly across the exposed skin above his shirt collar. He tugged gently at the short red hair that ghosted down the nape of his neck. They were barely touching, just fingertips and a few inches of skin on his shoulder, but it felt electric.

It was selfish of him, but Andrew relished in this part of Neil’s nightmares. The minutes where they would just sit in each others’ company until the memories didn’t sting so bad, until they were replaced with the sensation of hot breath and soft mouths and wandering hands. Neil took multiple deep, slow, shuddering breaths until it didn’t require such an effort, until their heartbeats fell into sync, and Neil could remember that he was safer at this moment than he had been his whole life. Andrew took note of every small victory, a scholar obsessed. He folded the corners of each one like a well-read novel and tucked them back into the hole inside his chest. These were the memories he called on when he wrestled his own demons, they gave him courage and flashed synonymous four-letter words across the forefront of his mind. 

_Home._

_Safe._

_Love._

_Neil._

_Neil, Neil, Neil._

“Neil,” Andrew let his heart lift the word from his lungs, and he felt the enormity of it. The way that it curled and grew and took up all of the space in the room. “Neil,” he said again, barely a whisper. His throat felt raw with the weight of a confession. The object of Andrew’s affection pulled himself up straight, staring back at him with a small crease between his brows. Andrew’s hands had returned to his lap, and he felt compelled to smooth the lines back into something softer, less concerned. Instead he just picked at his thumb, feeling the sharp push of his nails in his skin. Neil gently placed his hands over the top of Andrew’s, waiting patiently.

He felt stupid, and he hated it. Andrew was not supposed to be the one who let his emotions control him, but here he was, heart in his throat, walking a tightrope that spanned a chasm of joy that he had never allowed himself to fall into.

He had never felt so _happy._ Something within him ached.

“Yes or no?” Andrew pulled himself from his thoughts and took note of Neil’s hands, inches from his face, asking to hold him. _Gentle,_ he thought. Andrew turned his head into Neil’s right hand, kissing his palm as he let himself feel the warmth of his skin. 

“Neil,” he said again, finding his voice. It sounded far away, but Andrew was sure that he had spoken. He didn’t know how to continue. “You do know that… I-” His forehead drew into a tightly knit frown. Andrew risked opening his eyes and saw Neil, damaged and beautiful and understanding and _his._ Neil had told him that it would always be yes, had followed him up to the roof, seen so many sunsets, had asked Andrew to ‘choose us,’ had held the promise of a future so tauntingly in the space between them. 

It had always been them.

This was what it was.

“I love you, Neil.” The words dripped like honey off of his tongue, holy words from the mouth of a frequent sinner, Andrew felt like he was a ghost looking outside his own body. It felt like praying. Neil’s mouth pulled into a happy, stupid grin. He looked like he wanted to say something sarcastic and witty, but Andrew’s pride couldn’t take it, so he just pulled him into a messy, hungry kiss. It reminded Andrew of their first kisses, unsure and stolen in secret, but this time he did not have to hide. This time he heard the soft sound that pushed its way out of Neil’s mouth, and he smiled viciously into his lips. There were a lot of things he was not allowed to want. 

He was allowed to want this.

Andrew nipped at Neil’s earlobe, earning a pleasant hiss from the other boy. He could hear him let out a small giggle behind Andrew’s head, he whispered, barely a word, “Andrew.”

He felt like lightning.

Andrew leaned back to look at the boy that had become his home, and his smile was blinding. There was a time where seeing it would have physically pained him to look at, but now he just exhaled and allowed his mouth to melt into something that wasn’t entirely a frown. “Andrew,” Neil said again. This felt like deja vu. “I love you too. You know?” Neil looked at something inside of Andrew, past his eyes, past his skin, past the towering defenses that he so painstakingly built. It was nice, to feel known. Andrew let his eyes slip closed, feeling Neil’s words fall over him like a coat. Of course he knew, and of course Neil already knew how Andrew felt, but it still felt good to say it. Andrew nodded. 

Suddenly he remembered how his night- morning, whatever- had begun. Exhaustion, fear, Andrew was tired. He hadn’t checked the clock, but the windows were beginning to lighten behind the curtains in the room, and he was struck by the realization that he did not want to get up. He wanted to lay here, with Neil, for just a bit longer. 

So he did. 

He tore himself away from Neil’s loving gaze and turned off the lamp behind him. He pulled the covers from their discarded heap at the foot of the bed, and Neil followed him gratefully. They laid down on their backs, and Andrew found faces in the light that danced on the backs of his eyelids until he heard Neil’s breathing begin to even out. He sighed into the silent bedroom that he shared with the man who he loved, and conceded that this was something that it was okay to have. That another hour of pillows and dreams and Neil was not cause for the end of the world. 

Neil wordlessly opened his hand in the sheets between them, and though a younger Andrew might have discarded it, might have ignored Neil and fallen asleep or left the bed entirely, that was not what this Andrew did. 

Andrew slipped his hand into Neil’s and fell asleep with his face resting as it had not for a long time, with a small, true smile on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I love these boys so much and all I want is for them to heal and be happy. Leave a comment if you have something to say it means the world to me. 🥺 I'm on Tumblr at @smilesbag if you want to see more of my work!


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